


Speak up

by PaperHatCollection



Series: Superegos au [2]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: One Shot, but the plot changed, mostly establishing these characters for later, that character death is just the author turning into the host, very bloody, was originally going to be posted later on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-27 01:06:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17756891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaperHatCollection/pseuds/PaperHatCollection
Summary: Somehow, Bim Trimmer wasn’t very surprised to discover his brother laying on his kitchen floor.





	Speak up

    Somehow, Bim Trimmer wasn’t very surprised to discover his brother laying on his kitchen floor.

    Honestly, after the day he’d had at work, nothing would surprise him anymore. Problems setting up the cameras, syncing issues while on the air, a  _ flood- _ He wasn’t even supposed to be home right now, he was technically on his lunch break and and rushed home when he realized he’d forgotten his phone. So when he’d walked in his apartment and was met with the smell of rusted iron? And the droplets of blood leading from his entryway further into his apartment? Trimmer knew it was going to be a long day. 

    He removed his trench coat to hang up on his coat rack, taking his sweet time. He’d planned to only run in and out, but clearly that plan had been thrown out the window. He even considered removing his shoes and the outer coat of his suit, but decided he might as well get this over with, and followed the trail of blood towards his kitchen. That’s where he found Isaac, a best selling author whose book have been read world wide, laying face down on his kitchen floor as he slowly bleed out on the polished wood. Bim couldn’t see where the blood was coming from, but he did note that Isaac had both his hands pressed to a spot on his hip, hidden under his body. 

    Bim nudged Isaac’s shoulder with the tip of his shoe, earning a grumble in response that sounded like a muffled ‘fuck you’ against the floor. Alright, so Isaac was alive and awake than. Great. That settled, Bim stepped over his brothers body to get into his kitchen, ignoring him in favor of getting his coffee grounds and filters out of his cabinets to start up a fresh pot of the stuff. He wondered, as he started his overly priced coffee maker, if the calm he was feeling was simply a matter of being used to this sort of things by now, or if Isaac had written anything before face planting on the floor. It would explain quite a few oddities about his day. 

    More muffled grumbling drifted over from where Isaac was laying, up until he managed to roll himself over onto his back. The cold floor was uncomfortable against his back, but he couldn’t find the energy left to care. Instead he let his head roll slightly to the side, just enough so that he could follow Bim’s movement around the kitchen. “Oh, golly gee,” Isaac grumbled, voice raised louder than it needed to be just to make sure Bim heard him. “Coffee. Yeah, Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. It’s not like I’m  _ bleeding out on you floor _ or anything. Take you time.” 

    As if to emphasize his words Isaac pressed his hands down harder against the slowly spreading red stain visible on his shirt, the fabric bunched up under his bloody hands. Most of the blood, admittedly, might not be his own… but what was one to do, when ones characters refused to do as they were told? He still cursed himself out for forgetting he’d given that guy a knife earlier on, but he’d been refusing to use it the entire time. Yet of  _ course _ , after refusing to use that weapon on literal  _ monsters _ he’d been  _ just fine _ turning it against a fellow human. 

    Bim rolled his eyes as hard as he could, despite the fact he literally had his back to Isaac and he wouldn’t be able to see it. Not like it would matter, Bim thought to himself as he pulled a plain white mug down from his cupboard. Isaac never seemed to miss any little details like that, regardless of where he was looking. Isaac could be walking around blind and it wouldn’t matter. Also, Bim thought, I need to buy more interesting mugs. Why did he own so many plain white- oh, Matthias. Right. 

    Continuing to take his sweet time, Bim hummed his shows theme music under his breath as he set the mug down and spun it in place so that it sat perfectly centered on the counter. He then casually walked over to the fridge to grab the cream and sugar off the top, alongside a paper stirring spoon. He brought them over to the coffee machine, pausing briefly to cast a glance around the countertops for any sign of his phone. He could have sworn he’d left it on the kitchen counter. Huh. He shrugged and turned back to the cupboard, reaching into the back to pull out a med kit. He’d once kept it in his bathroom, but situations pretty darn similar to this one had made keeping it out here a necessarily. 

    “So,” Trimmer began, spinning on his heel to drop the med kit straight onto Isaacs chest. “Writing problems?” He asked, leaning back against the counter while crossing his arms. 

    Isaac managed to pull a hand away long enough to flip Bim off. 

    Focusing on himself again, Isaac dragged his body up enough to prop his back against the island cupboard around him. The med kit fell into his lap, which he finally opened with a soft  _ *click* _ before setting it down on the floor besides his injured side. Next came the removal of his shirt, peeling it away from where the blood had begun to clot and effectively seal it on his side. He wished he hadn’t tossed aside that knife after he’d finished using it- it would have come in handy right about now. With literally no help from Bim, Isaac managed to get the shirt off over his head and tossed it to the side. 

    “Show problems?” Isaac asked, already setting to work cleaning up his wound. He’d patched himself up enough times in the past to do this sort of thing blindfolded. “You seem to be home  _ early, _ and I know you’re too much of a workaholic to take the day off.” 

    He  _ knew _ it. 

    “What makes you think there's any problems at work?” Bim asked anyways. “I’m just here to find my phone.”

    Now it was Isaac’s turn to roll his eyes, grinning even as antibiotics burned softly across his injured skin. “Because, dear brother, you’re about as predictable as a clock. Duh. A few issues you would just be standing around and watching other people solve, forgetting you phone’s in your pocket, and you came rushing back.” 

    Sure enough, his phone was exactly where Isaac said it was. Bim kicked Isaac in the leg in response. Not hard enough to hurt him, but just enough to make him flinch and apply just a little too much pressure to his wounds. Isaac hissed under his breath, clutching his side- okay, so maybe that hurt him a little. He edged out of Isaac’s reach before he could retaliate, which turned out to be just in time for the coffee maker behind him to beep in completion. 

    “So are you, you know.” Bim pointed out, grabbing the fresh pot of coffee and the mug, filling it about halfway before putting the pot back, grabbing the sugar. “Since when do you  _ ever _ show up except when you need something?” he asked, pouring the sugar in for a couple seconds. He didn’t bother to measure it out. 

    After that he filled the rest of the mug up with creamer, than did the best he could to stir it with the stirring stick. Bim flicked the stick into the trash, picking the warm mug up into his hands. Bim turned back to his brother, knelt down, and placed the mug on the floor next to Isaac. “You’re welcome.” 

    Isaac scoffed at his brothers claim. “Nonsense. I also show up when I  _ want _ stuff.”

    He was just wrapping a bandage over his wound, with a few helpful narrations whispered under his breath to help it heal faster than normal, when the coffee mug was placed down next to him. His hands stilled for a moment before he finished his task, putting the rest of the supplies back away, clicking it back shut, and then literally chucking the med kit back at Bim’s head. 

    “Thanks.” Isaac responded, picking the cup up. He swirled the liquid inside, watching as the last of the coffee and creamer mixed together, than presided to jug it down as if he’d been freezing. 

    Bim jerked back when the med kit flew at him, hands snapping up in a scramble to grab the kit out of the air. He nearly dropped it before getting enough of a hold on it to claim it back onto the counter. He sighed and rocked back on his heels, glancing down at Isaac and then at his bloody shirt. He paused to think, before stepping back over Isaac’s legs to get back out of the kitchen. He could have just gone around… but where was the fun in that?

    “Wait here.” Bim said over his shoulder, already heading further into his apartment. Not that he expected Isaac to be going anywhere in any kind of a hurry.He stopped by his closet just long enough to grab a spare shirt that Isaac looked like he’d wear and that Bim wouldn’t miss, than began to head back before slowing down, than changing direction towards his front door. Bm returned to his coat rack, grabbing the trench coat he’d placed there easier, then returned to the kitchen with the coat draped over his arm. “Here. You can use these. The coat’ll probably fit you better than it did me anyways.” He knew his brother well enough to think that any ‘borrowed’ clothes would be returning to him anytime soon.

    Eyeing the coat as if it were about to bite him, Isaac grabbed the edge of the counter to haul himself up. He placed down the cup of coffee so he could grab the shirt, slipping it on and buttoning it up. It was just a white dress shirt, a bit plainer than what Isaac normally wore, but it would do for now. Than he grabbed the coat and slipped it into his arms, shrugging it over his shoulders. “Well?” Isaac asked, reaching back towards his coffee. “How do I look?”

_ Isaac stumbled  into the apartment, leaning heavily against the wall of the entryway. Bim was too shocked to scream, empty mug slipping from his fingers and shattering on the floor. He didn’t hear it, not really. It was a dim echo in the back of his head as he opened his mouth, struggling to form words.  _

_ Where his eyes should have been was only blood, running down his face like red tears. Isaac coughed, blood coating the front of his shirt- no, it was already there, a bullet wound through his chest, his lung. The trench coat seemed to hang from him like rags, the man wearing it suddenly so weak and frail, and Isaac managed to take one more step before his bones seemed to give out under him and Bim was rushing forward to grab him before he hit the floor- _

    “Bim!” Isaac snapped, pulling Bim out of the vision. He blinked, gaza clearing as he realized his brother was standing directly in front of him, holding Bim’s face in his hands- and Bim was holding onto him as if his life depended on it. “Bim, what the fuck was that? What did you  _ see?” _ Isaac asked, his own gaze searching Bim’s face. I occurred to Bim that he felt as if all the blood had been  _ drained _ from his own face, and he was shivering slightly. 

    “I…” Bim paused, cleared his throat, and spoke louder. Tried to bring that family confidence back into his voice. “Isaac, you know that you can’t write your way out of ever danger, right? You’re still  _ mortal-” _

    “What. Did. You. See?” Isaac asked, voice cutting straight through Bim’s skull. It only dimly occurred to him that Isaac had just used his power on Bim as he answered automatically to the command. 

    “You were dying. Possibly dead.” Bim admitted, than flinched as the words left his mouth. Saying them almost made the words more  _ real. _ “Isaac, what… you haven't pissed anyone off, have you?”

    “Not anyone that’s alive.” Isaac noted, stepping back and picking his coffee up, glancing off towards the side, towards one of the windows in Bim’s apartment. That… didn’t sound sure. 

    Bim sighed, closing his eyes and trying to focus. The vision was long gone, and Bim had never figured out how to make those happen at will. But the image of Isaac bleeding to death, eyes gouged out and shot, falling… he’d been coming in. “I… Isaac, I need you to wait here.” he asked, opening his eyes and looked back towards his brother. “You were coming  _ in _ when I had the vision… I can tell you more when I get back from work, but right now… just promise you won’t leave, okay?”

    Isaac nodded, taking another long drink of whatever was left of his coffee. After an uncomfortably long pause, Isaac lowered his cup long enough to speak. “Yeah, sure. I’m not exactly eager to run around the city right now anyways. You work, I’ll kick back.” 

    Bim hoped that Isaac was being honest. 

    He didn’t have much more time to waste, anyways. He needed to get back to work before anyone noticed he’d been gone for longer than he’d needed to, skipping getting any actual lunch in favor of getting back sooner. Thankfully, the subways hadn’t been as crowded as they had been coming back to his apartment. Still, when he walked back into work, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

    “Bim!” Shelly called from across the room, jogging over with her clipboard in hand. “There you are- look, we’ve had a rough start, but we need you to pull your A-game from here on out. Think you can do that?” 

    “Of course.” Bim answered, raising his hand to his chest as if he was shocked. “Me, bringing anything less than my best? Honey, I’m limited to my A-game on a  _ bad _ day.” he promised. So long as he could talk, the audience would be throwing themselves at his feet. 

    Shelly sighed in relief. “Thanks, Bim. At least  _ you’re _ ready and willing to go, unlike soME PEOPLE!” she shouted that last bit, glancing back at some tech guys on the other side of the room, before turning fully back to Bim and grinning widely. “Mayor Damien’s already here, he wants to speak to you before the show. He’s waiting in your dressing room.” 

    Really? The Mayor was here already? Bim nodded, glancing towards his dressing room and trying to shake the feeling in his gut. He needed to focus on his work- if he played his cards right, one of the higher ups in this industry was willing to give Bim a second show- sure, he hadn’t  _ told _ Bim about that fact yet, but Bim might have been slowly molding said higher up so he’d make that exact decision. 

    “I’d better not keep him waiting then.” Bim said, giving Shelly a wave as he headed towards his dressing room. He weaved through the stage workers to get back towards the hallway leading further into the building, which were thankfully pretty much empty, than took a moment to compose himself. He cleared his throat, smoothed out his suit, made sure his blond hair was great, than stepped into his dressing room. 

    Mayor Damien turned to face Bim when he entered, a relaxed grin on the mayors face. He had a cane in his hands that he was twisting slightly, an obvious sign that he was nervous. Bim had seen the mayor on tv before, but never in person. He hadn’t expected seeing him in purpose to be like…  _ this. _ Bim froze, hit gut all but plummeting into the floor as his spine seemed to freeze from the chill that curled down his body. He wasn’t sure what he looked like, but Damien tilted his head and stepped closer, which Bim matched with a step back. He was fully planning to spin and bolt from the room. 

    The door slammed behind Bim, making him jump and spin, immediately trying to force the door open. He couldn’t explain where this sudden terror was coming from, but he suddenly knew, without a second thought, that he needed  _ out. _ That’s about when that…  _ ringing _ sound started, like when a tv was turned on. Bim froze, than slowly turned around, back against the door. 

**“Bim Trimmer.”** the man who was definitely not mayor Damien said, voice a near purr as it rolled off his tongue. In any other setting, that voice would have made Bim shiver in a very different way. Around not-Damien, the color seemed to have been drained from both him and the surrounding air. It didn't feel _human._ **“Please, sit. I only want to…** ** _talk_** **.”**

    While he hadn’t been planning to move, Bim suddenly found the door behind him was simply… gone. Bim toppled backwards, landing smack into a chair, glancing around only to find that the rest of the room had disappeared as well. He was in a void, pure black in every direction he looked, except for directly in front of him. A table had appeared, the sort you’d expect to see in an interrogation room, not-Damien sitting across from him. He hadn’t even seen not-Damien move. 

**“My name, if you insist on calling me anything, is Dark.”** not- er… Dark said. Bim flinched, wondering why he- oh no. Dark leaned against the table, hands resting in front of him, clasped together.  **“You could make it easier on me, Trimmer, and not think so** **_loudly.”_ **

    “I- er…” it took Bim another second for his mind to catch up with anything that had just happened. He threw on a smile like a familiar mask, trying to keep his body relaxed. He also tried his best not to think about how scared he was. “So, Dark… I take it the interview with the mayor is off the table?” 

    Dark was silent for a few seconds, minus the ringing in the back of Bim’s head from simply being around the guy. Bim hoped his smile didn’t look as forced as it felt. Finally, Dark seemed to decided he’d been staring at Bim in awkward silence for long enough.  **“Oh, no. That’s still very much a part of the plan. I hadn’t planned to reveal myself like this until** **_after_ ** **the interview, but… you seemed to have made things a little more** **_difficult_ ** **than planned.”**

    If Dark noticed the way Bim flinched at those words, he didn’t show it.  **“But, since you’ve decided to hurry things along… I have an offer for you.”** Dark leaned even closer, mouth full of pretty sharp teeth as he grinned, a look on his face akin to a shark.  **“I’ve been watching your family for some time now. You could be** **_very_ ** **useful for my cause… and in return I could give you everything… power, money, whatever your heart desires.”**

    Somewhere in the back of his head, Bim was aware of the aura clinging to Dark dropping onto him like a shroud, bringing up older memories of things beyond his grasp- and making him so, so  _ very _ sure Dark intended to keep his word. But he was also aware that it wasn’t entirely him having those feelings. Bim cleared his throat, attempting to clear his head. 

    “Why?” Bim asked. It wasn’t until he heard the echo of his voice that he even realized he’d spoken. “I’m happy right where I am. Why should I risk changing anything now?” 

    Dark brought a hand up, adjusting his tie. Bim suddenly felt nervous for a reason he couldn’t quite name.  **“That is simple, Trimmer. If you do not, I’ll kill you.”**

    “Yet you’re asking me and trying to convince me,” Bim pointed out. He couldn’t believe he was really talking right now. “If you kill me, you’ll never get what you want. So, convince me. No vague promises. I don’t care about money or power, I’ve got that handled on my own. If I want something, I either get it or I stop caring. I’m  _ Bim Trimmer _ , what else could I want?” Bim sat straightener, grin coming a bit easier. “Go ahead.” 

    For several tense moments, Dark didn’t say anything. Then he stood, sudden and sharp, and Bim flinched back, bringing up his hands as if to defend himself. He heard Dark chuckle.  **“I knew Warfstache should have handled you.”** Dark mused, almost as if to himself.  **“You have a similar…** **_fire_ ** **to him. Very well.”** Dark snapped his hands, and suddenly they were back in the dressing room, Bim falling to the floor. It very much looked like Damien was in front of him- but it wasn’t. 

    “Willford will convince you. But for now.” Dark smoothed out his suit, smiling with Damien’s face. “Let’s get that interview over with, shall we?” 

 

\-----

 

    That was probably the worst interview of Bim’s entire life. 

    Shelly had been forced to reschedule for another day- between Bim’s stammering, how pale he was, his refusal to look ‘Damien’ in the eyes, he’d been pegged as ‘sick’ and sent home to recover. Just another thing to add into the bucket of things that were going wrong today. Bim was lucky that he didn’t  _ actually _ throw up from the ways his nerves were firing in every sense of the word- and they were not letting up on the trip home either. 

    “Isaac?!” Bim called, the moment he’d stepped foot inside the apartment. The silence that Bim received in return put him more on edge than if he’d heard a blood-curling scream. He hoped that Isaac was simply… taking a nap, or was absorbed into a book, or  _ something _  as he rushed into his apartment, trying to to knock over every single object he passed. In the middle of the living room Isaac’s mug lay abandoned, completely empty. Bim picked it up, unsure, before the familiarity hit him like a truck. 

    He froze. And then he heard it- footsteps, landing heavily and uneven, someone opening the front door back up. Bim looked up towards the front door. 

    Isaac stumbled  into the apartment, leaning heavily against the wall of the entryway. Bim was too shocked to scream, empty mug slipping from his fingers and shattering on the floor. He didn’t hear it, not really. It was a dim echo in the back of his head as he opened his mouth, struggling to form words. 

    Where his eyes should have been was only blood, running down his face like red tears. Isaac coughed, blood coating the front of his shirt- no, it was already there, a bullet wound through his chest, his lung. The trench coat seemed to hang from him like rags, the man wearing it suddenly so weak and frail, and Isaac managed to take one more step before his bones seemed to give out under him and Bim was rushing forward to grab him before he hit the floor, wrapping his arms around his brother. He was heavy, heavier than he looked, and Bim managed to half drag, half carry him further inside, dropping him onto a couch. 

    “Shit.” Bim muttered to himself, nearly throwing himself into his coffee table in his rush to get to the kitchen. “Shit shit shit shit _ shitshitshitsthi- _ ”

    Bim grabbed the med kit where he’d abandoned it before, sitting on his kitchen counter before practically bolting back to his brother. Isaac was muttering something to himself, narrations whispered so softly that he almost didn’t hear them at all, only watched Isaac’s lips move softly. Bim didn’t waste time trying to figure out what Isaac was saying, instead practically tearing the med kit out and grabbing what he needed. HIs internal monologue was something along the lines of holy fuck, o _ h shit, oh no _ \- as he set to work, doing what he could to stop the blood flow from Isaac’s eyes and chest. 

    He’d grabbed his phone in his panic, ready to dial 911, only to suddenly fling it across the room. Bim didn’t- he felt Isaac’s narrations dig into the back of his mind, and he went back to bandaging him. Somehow, he got the bullet out with a pair of tweezers, than he was using clotting gauze over the wound. This didn’t feel right, even knowing the things Isaac could do with his voice alone- not that he was really in a position to think. Bim grabbed bandages from the kit, pressing them to Isaac’s eyes, around his head, trying to stop the bleeding. Than he tried to pull his hands away. 

    He couldn’t pull his hands away. 

    He was tired. Very tired. 

    Bim passed out. 

 

…

 

…

 

…

 

…

 

…

 

    Bim woke up on the couch. 

    For a second, he didn’t remember how he’d gotten there. He blinked slowly, staring up at his living room ceiling, trying to remember why he was -  _ oh _ . Bim shot upright when the memories of… last night? Yesterday? He didn’t actually know how long he’d been asleep, searching his pockets for his phone before finding it on the table, next to his suit jacket and tie. Yesterday, he noted once he’d seen the time. What the fuck. Bim pulled himself off the couch, nearly collapsing onto the floor before he rightened himself, unused to how long it was taking his body to wake up under him. 

    “Finally getting his feet under him, Bim Trimmer manages to stumble his way into his kitchen, where he could hear his brothers voice coming from.” The man sitting in the kitchen muttered under his breath, head bowed slightly so that the rag he’d tied around his head would continue to soak up the blood seeping from him. In his hands was an apple, which he turned over in his hands as fingers swept across it’s unseen surface, but he made no move to bite into it. “Bim Trimmer hovers in the doorway, confused and unsure, ready to ask his brother how he survived. His brother did not.” 

    “Isaac, what-” Bim began, stepping into the room.

    “The Host is not the Author that Bim Trimmer’s brother was.” The Host narrated, setting the apple down. “The Author… ‘Isaac’ died do to his arrogance, and in his attempt to defy death he managed to create the Host in his place. Bim Trimmer is confused. The Host advices  Bim Trimmer not to think to hard about it. Warfstache will confuse him more than enough for one day.” 

    “Wait, woah, did you say-”

    “Having learned from the Authors mistakes, the Host did not refuse the offer Dark placed before him, even though it might have been… unfavorable.” the Host muttered, whilst a knocking came from the front door. Ah- he was early. “The Host also advies Bim Trimmer not to let his guard down. Bim Trimmer is still very much confused, but he leaves to answer the door anyways, unsure if he’d even really waken as he thought or if he’s merely dreaming.”

    Isaac’s voice faded out as Bim left the kitchen, but remained a distant, constant noise in the background. He truly didn’t know what was going on. Maybe, he thought to himself, he’ll wake up and realize his brother really did die, and this is just a grief filled dream. At least until he opened the door- and immediately slammed it back shut. He stood there, wondering if he’d really just slammed his door on the most dangerous man in the world, when polite knocking started back up. 

    Bim opened the door again, slowly, deciding that the hurricane on the other end could have come through regardless if the door was open or not. Wilford Warfstache grinned from the otherside of Bim’s doorway, stepping forward to lean on the doorframe and effectively prevent Bim from shutting it again. “Why, hello there~” Warfstache chirped, as if talking to a friend. “Boy, have I got an offer for  _ you!” _


End file.
